This Dormant Love You've Built
by alanabloom
Summary: "After the past five months, they deserve a perfect little reality, if only for a little while." Alana/Will, immediately post-prison fic. Probable two shot.
1. Chapter 1

They take him directly back to Baltimore from the courthouse, and it takes nearly forty-five minutes to get his release processed. There is an irrational knot of panic in Will's throat, as if someone will come any second and drag him back to his cell, like this morning's verdict and the _cleared of all charges_ was some sort of cruel joke.

He is still wearing his suit from the trial, rather than his prisoner scrubs, so even when they hand him a bag of personal affects that includes the clothes he was wearing the morning of the arrest, he doesn't feel a pressing need to change.

Will just wants out of there.

A guard still escorts him to the front of the building, but Will's hands are free and there is a distance between them, and those distinctions make all the difference.

And yet it doesn't feel real until he sees her.

She's standing just inside the main door, and in the split second before she glances up and sees him, Will gets a glimpse of the nervy exhaustion etched into Alana's features. It's so unlike the expression she's worn for the past week in court, all ferocity and steady conviction.

But then she does see him, and her whole body relaxes, face breaking into a dizzying sort of smile. Alana had rounded the divider as soon as the verdict came down, and though it was only an hour ago Will wants her in his arms again, in spite of how the now foreign feeling of human contact had nearly knocked him sideways.

As it is Alana walks to meet him, and quite formally extends her hand; her tone is teasing but her voice is pulled tight, eyes glittering as she says, "Can I give you a ride home?"

The word slams into him, and for the first time since the courthouse, the dazed, surreal feeling dissolves and Will fully feels the strength of his own relief. His knees buckle, his throat contracts, and he gratefully slides his fingers between hers, thinking that _this_ is what freedom is, touching her with no glass between them, with _nothing_ between them but aching possibility and endless gratitude.

He squeezes her hand once, and follows Alana out of the prison and into the sunlight.

~(W*A)~

They ride with all the windows rolled down, Will's head tilted back against the seats, his eyes closed, reveling in the sensation of cool spring air whipping over him. The radio plays quietly beneath the wind, something soft and mellow, and it all feels like some sort of dream.

Neither speaks for awhile; Will hasn't even thought to pay attention to where they're driving until Alana speaks up, "I thought we'd stop by my house first...figured you'd want to get the dogs."

Alana glances sideways at him, checking for confirmation, and Will's smiling with such pure, untainted happiness that for a second her heart stops beating.

~(W*A)~

Will's practically vibrating in anticipation as he follows Alana up her porch steps and waits for her to unlock the door.

The chorus of barks and clattering paws on hardwood that begins as soon as they step inside is typical, but as soon as the dogs get close enough to register Will's presence it becomes something else entirely.

He drops to his knees immediately, trembling hands moving fast to try to give them all equal attention. Alana leans against her front door, watching the heap of wagging tails and delighted barking. In that moment, Will looks like a happy little boy, sitting on the floor in his slightly too-big suit.

Alana's heart is tight and achey, tears throbbing behind her eyes. She had not slept the night before, just lain awake in horrible, sickening terror, the first time she had allowed herself to explicitly acknowledge that Will might not be coming home. But now here he is, knelt in the floor of her foyer with the dogs she's looked after for months, and it's too much to feel all at once.

After awhile, Will looks up at Alana and smiles crookedly, an awkward expectation in his face.

She gets it, and smiles back, full of understanding. "You probably want to get them home."

~(W*A)~

The dogs take off into the house the second the doors open, sniffing and barking wildly as they circle their old home, exploring as though to make sure it hasn't changed.

Will is quieter in his return, eyes scanning the familiar surroundings with a sort of cautious wonder. He can't help but linger on the table where his fishing reels used to be.

Eventually, he turns to look at Alana; she's chewing on her lower lip, something oddly akin to panic brewing behind her eyes, but it fades as soon as Will looks at her, and she gives him a small smile. He smiles back.

For a second it's awkward - as though they have forgotten how to interact when their tragedy is not all around them, when the barriers between them aren't tangible - but then she takes two steps forward and puts her arms around him and it's not anymore.

They hold on for a long time, longer than in the courthouse, even when Will feels one of the dogs circling their ankles, trying to squeeze between.

His heart feels too big for his chest, and he fleetingly wonders _What happens now?_

Will thinks of how readily Alana touches him, how tightly she holds him now or how she thought nothing of grabbing his hand at Baltimore...a hand she believes is capable of murder, a hand she believes committed unspeakable evils, that killed Abigail Hobbs, someone she cared about.

Can they ever get past that?

Yet Alana has never faulted him for it, never cared what his hands were seemingly capable of. What concerns her most is his head, and his heart, and she has always known there is nothing there that makes him a murderer.

She is the reason Will is here, in so many ways: her testimony was the crux of his defense, fierce and passionate and so very certain. But it's more than that; Will can't imagine how he would have gotten through the past five months without Alana supporting him, believing in him, fighting for him from the other side of that glass.

He lets his lips brush her hairline, so lightly Will isn't even sure she feels it, and then murmurs in her ear, his whole heart in his voice, "Thank you."

"Oh, it was no problem. I'm actually gonna miss them."

"Oh, right." Will pulls back, and for just a second his eyes land directly on hers. "Thanks for that, too."

~(W*A)~

She feels hollow when she walks back into her empty house, and for a wild, irrational moment she thinks it's the absence of dogs, but really it's him.

Alana frowns, angry at herself for this sudden sense of emptiness. This is all she's wanted for months, and fighting to make it happen has consumed her. But suddenly the fight's over, it's won, and she feels uncertain and stagnant for the first time in months.

She had failed to prepare for this part. It seemed too precious, like the very fact of Will coming home was too wonderful and delicate and just out of reach to imagine any further.

But now what do they do? Where do they go from here? What are they to each other? The past few months have entangled them even more inextricably than they were, yet the darkness of the circumstances render them indefinable.

She has seen the brain scans, has brandished them in court - those scans are her everything. The visual proof that Will is healthy, his brain no longer swollen, that whatever made Will do what he did was never part of who he is, that it was something foreign that's now been fixed.

Will is healthy. He's free. And there's no way in hell he's going back in the field.

There is nothing stopping them.

And that feels so impossible it's almost terrifying.

Alana spots a thick purple rope lying in the corner of living room. The dogs love playing tug-o-war with it, Winston in particular.

Abruptly, without putting much thought of into it, she crosses the room and picks up the toy, holding it carefully by the middle section not damp and worn with bites marks, and carries it to the car.

She isn't sure what she'll do when she gets to Will's - it's probably far too soon to try to have a serious talk about _them_.

All she knows is that Will is _home_. No visiting hours, no glass, nothing between them. And it suddenly seems absurd that she isn't with him.

~(W*A)~

Alana gets out of her car and walks toward Will's house, gripping the dog toy in her hands, turning over excuses for the quick return in her head - she thought Winston might want the toy, she figured Will wouldn't have food in the house and they should go grab a decent dinner - when suddenly he's in front of her, standing up from the porch steps where he'd been sitting with a dog on either side of him, and smiling at her in pleasant confusion.

And it turns out _this_ - those few extras seconds of preparation stolen from her by Will's understandable desire to be outdoors - makes all the difference.

Because Alana is so tired of being strong. She is tired of the facade of keeping him at arm's length when it's never been true, when she has always been too close when it comes to him; that's why these past five months have been unbearable, why she has thrown everything she has into making _today_ happen. And something needy and desperate is swelling in her chest, so big that Alana's afraid she'll shatter.

So she lets the dog toy tumble to the ground, and with it all pretenses fall away, and Alana bounds up the porch stairs to meet him, fisting the front of his shirt and tugging him to her, her other hand winding possessively around the back his neck as she lifts her lips to meet his.

~(W*A)~

It's panicked and intense and hurried, an outburst of desperate _need_ and _want_, as though neither of them can quite believe they can take their time, like all this freedom will soon be snatched away.

Will is still in his suit, and after a moment Alana lets go of his shirt to peel the jacket off him. Seconds later her coat falls to the dusty wooden porch. Will goes down a step, and backs her against one of the white pillars that frames the porch steps. Their legs scramble against each other for a moment until Will lifts her slightly against the pillar, her thighs bracketing around his hips for support. It's messy and inelegant, all trembling hands and harsh breaths and a dizzying, rushed collision of mouths and teeth and tongues.

They go still at the same moment, chests heaving as they gasp for air, eyes hot and dark when they meet. For a beat they stare at each other, as though waiting for something to kill the moment. Their history creeps up on them, stealthy and silent, and Will's face breaks open into a nervous, vulnerable look that seems to say _Please don't break me_.

In the next second, however, he remembers that this is _Alana_, and she would never break him, could never break what she had such a hand in putting back together.

And Will looks at her, _really_ looks at her, soaking in the desperation and tenderness and unmistakable wanting in her eyes. Her fingers are woven into his curls, and now that their momentum is stalled, her touch gentles, stroking his hair in what feels almost like a reassurance.

He lifts his hands from her hips, bringing them shakily up to cradle her face. His eyes slowly move to hers, and Alana inhales, sharp and quiet. Something happens in that moment; some final piece of their walls crumbles to dust, and they're both feeling everything at once: how much they've hurt, how important they are to each other, how a moment like this one felt like a foreign, unattainable fantasy only days ago.

Will watches as Alana's eyes fill with tears, and he drops his forehead against hers for a moment before kissing her again, this time soft and steady.

"We can slow down," he murmurs against her lips when he pulls away. "We have time."

She nods, and again his mouth envelopes hers. After a moment, Alana's arms snake around his neck, and Will grabs the back of her thighs and lifts her, lets her legs wind around his waist, holding her up, as though to prove his own strength and stability. He carries her into the house and upstairs.

~(W*A)~

After, she lays across his chest, blanketing him, and as Will absently trails his fingers across her spine and marvels at the fact that he woke up this morning in a jail cell, the word _love_ rises in his throat, almost slipping, but he claws it back. Saves it for another day, because this one has been miraculous enough.

Besides. They have time.

~(W*A)~

They order pizza and eat it on top of the covers, Alana wrapped in one of Will's flannel shirts, the dogs padding around hoping for leftovers. Will has all the windows in the bedroom open.

The talk isn't too serious, not yet, but they don't venture away from the past five months; Alana updates him with small, inconsequential occurrences and developments, the sort of things that didn't seem to matter while he was in Baltimore. They speculate about Jack's behavior going forward, and what sort of article Freddie Lounds will spin out of the whole thing, and Alana tells Will about the various bars Beverly has dragged her to.

She trails down the stairs after Will when he goes to let the dogs out, and Will settles down on the edge of the porch, his eyes closed, breathing in the cool night air. Alana sits down beside him, drawing her bare legs up to her chest and trying not to shiver. After a moment, Will looks over at her out of the corner of his eye, and immediately jumps to his feet and hurries into the house, ignoring Alana's protests that she's fine.

When he returns he passes her a blanket and a beer, and she tilts her head to grin at him and says, "Ah, you're my hero." Will thinks it should be the other way around.

He settles beside her, and Alana tugs half of the blanket over his legs, shuffling close and resting her head on his shoulder.

They're quiet in the most content way possible, watching the dogs run joyfully across their yard while cicadas hum steadily and fireflies blink golden light in the darkness.

"I used to call them fairyflies when I was little," Alana says after awhile, her soft and almost dreamlike. "Thought they were magic. Like Tinker Bell."

Will smiles slightly, tugging something from the dredges of his memory. "My father worked for a few years on boat yards...there were a couple of other kids whose fathers worked there. We used to run around the docks pretending to be the pirates." Alana smiles and shuffles a little closer before he continues, "Though I suppose the Lost Boys would have been more appropriate."

Her smiles fades, and after a moment she lifts her head to look at him and asks softly, "Do you still feel lost?"

Will lifts his hand, tucking an errant strand of Alana's dark hair behind her ear, then letting his thumb slowly trace the curve of her cheekbone. "Right now? Not even a little."

It's the sweetest kiss yet, soft and slow and easy, as though they've already become intimately acquainted with each other's movements.

When the dogs eventually come stumbling up the porch, tired out and ready to go back in, Will offers Alana his hand to pull her up, and he's barely gotten the question_ Do you want to stay over?_ out before she's saying yes.

~(W*A)~

That night, their second time, when Alana starts to come she arches into him, and his name slips out, strangled and barely decipherable among their other sounds, but Will hears it and it undoes him right alongside her.

When it's over, Alana buries her face his shoulder, shaken and overwhelmed and oddly tearful. Her heart feels heavy and fast in her chest, so very _full_. There is too much to feel, and she presses her lips against his skin lest all those feelings meld themselves into words that come tumbling out far too soon.

~(W*A)~

It takes her a moment, upon waking, to remember where she is, and to register with relief that yesterday wasn't some blissful but finite dream.

Will's arm is wrapped heavy around her waist, his chest warm and solid against her back. He is so very _present_, and for the first time in months it feels like breathing is easy again.

Alana turns herself carefully, craning her neck to look at Will's sleeping profile. He looks younger when he sleeps, and she's thrown back to that day in the hospital, where she'd come in to find him sleeping on the couch at the foot of Abigail's bed.

That was the first time she broke her own rule, let herself be alone in a room with him. The first layer of her boundaries to crumble, and it went fast; hadn't had a chance once Jack put him out in the field. She'd already cared more than she'd ever meant to, and Alana couldn't help but check up on him, make sure he knew she was there for him.

And once that happened, all the other boundaries between them had been quickly obliterated.

Will's arm tightens unconsciously around her, and he shifts the slightest bit, as though accommodating Alana's movements. She lets her fingers lightly skim the tips of his dark curls and thinks that as hard as the past five months have been, as much pain as they've been through, she likes being on this side of the boundary.

His eyelids flutter delicately and his nose scrunches, but then Will's eyes snap open and instantly flood with panic, his body jerking like he's catching himself mid-fall.

"Will, hey..." Concerned, she rolls over and puts a hand on his chest. "You okay?"

"Yeah..." he says faintly, realization slowly filling his eyes, followed quickly by something closer to wonder. "Sorry, just..." He laughs once, breathless. "For a second it didn't feel real."

Her heart catches, and Alana lifts herself up to kiss him, offering him proof.

~(W*A)~

She likes seeing him first thing in the morning, with his bare feet and glasses and tumbling curls. She likes the look on his face when he drinks coffee for the first time in months, and she likes the way the dogs trot along at his heels in a herd, still reveling in his presence.

When he comments he's low on dog food, Alana realizes she has several bags in her garage and offers to go get them.

"You don't have to..." He waves a hand wryly at the empty cabinets behind. "I'm going to have to venture to a store pretty soon anyway."

"It's fine, I need to change anyway." She finishes her coffee and sets it down on the counter, throwing a smile over her shoulder. "I'll get it and be right back."

And so she leaves only after giving herself reason to immediately return.

~(W*A)~

In an hour and a half Alana comes back with dog food to find that Will's been to the grocery store. He's standing in the kitchen making sandwiches, and when she walks in he gives her a hesitant, hopeful smile.

"Do you want to go somewhere?"

She does.

They drive five miles to a small lake, Winston and Bear in the backseat joining them. Will brings old fishing reels he'd had to dig out of storage, the only ones to survive the search warrant.

"I know it might be kind of boring for you," he tells her on the ride, tone already tinged with apology. "It's just, it's been awhile..."

"I won't be bored," she tells him with a smile, and she sounds so sure that something loosens in Will's chest. He wants to share this with her, this thing he has loved for so long.

Will loves the musty smell of the lake, of mud and pine and a slight hint of rain. He lets the dogs out of the car, and they run excitedly around the familiar spot. There's an old, splintered picnic table with underbrush growing up the edges, and they sit on top of the table on the same side, feet on the bench, eating their sandwiches.

"We don't have to stay long," Will assures her, as he starts to ready his fishing pole.

Alana lifts an eyebrow at him. "You don't think I'm just going to stand and watch, do you?" Will blinks at her, confused. "Show me how."

He smiles, and jogs back to the trunk of the car. When he comes back he's got a second pole in his hand. "I didn't know if you'd want to."

Will shows her how to attach the reels. "You've never done it?"

"Not fly fishing." She grins a little. "...or regular fishing." Off his look, Alana explains, "My brothers played baseball."

"What about you?"

"Soccer, for a little while."

Will's aware he's giving into a cliche when his hands cover hers and guide them into the correct position around the reel, and later when he stands behind her in the lake, arms draped over hers while he's showing her how to cast.

He leans forward so he can see her smile when she gets it right, and for a moment Will forgets his own fishing pole, left leaning against the picnic bench, and he rests his hands on Alana's hips.

Fly fishing has for so long been just his, one of the few times when the silence and the solitude of his life actually feels right.

But it's never felt as right as this, doesn't even come close to how it feels to be here with her.

~(W*A)~

Alana does get bored after awhile, but only of the actual fishing part. So she throws sticks for the dogs and watches Will from the corner of her eyes. The afternoon fades quickly, but she has no desire to tear Will away.

Neither of them pay attention to the clouds until the rain begins.

It's fast; Alana's barely felt the first drops against her skin when the sky opens up and it starts pouring.

"Oh, shit..." she says laughingly, grabbing the dogs by their collars and leading them to the car, then going back for the bag they'd packed the sandwiches in. "Will, c'mon!"

She freezes when she looks at him, standing knee deep in the water, fishing forgotten. His eyes are closed, a smile on his face, and Alana's heart skitters as the meaning of five months in prison hits her all over again.

The rain is warm and heavy, and after a moment of hesitation Alana wades through the water. Reaching him, she wraps her arms around his waist and rests her chin on his shoulder. "Thanks for bringing me here," she whispers, close to his ear so he can hear her under the sound of the rain.

Will's body relaxes, and he turns to face her, his smile falling away almost instantly as he gets a look at her. "Oh, God, sorry, you're getting soaked."

"I don't care," she says honestly.

"Here..." He tugs off his knit cap and maneuvers it awkwardly over her hair.

Alana starts laughing immediately, "Will, this is-"

"Already soaking wet, I know." He pulls a sheepish face and her laughter intensifies, and she has to lean against him to stay upright.

When she stops laughing and looks up, squinting through the rain, Will's face has softened. He lifts a hand to her head, knocking his cap off. It drops into the water, but he doesn't seem to notice.

He threads his fingers through her wet hair and - because, really, what's one more cliche - Will leans forward and kisses Alana in the rain.

The kiss feels like falling.

~(W*A)~

And so it turns out to be a good thing that Alana threw some clothes and toiletries in her car when she was at her house this morning.

Just in case.

Will follows her into the shower, and the scalding hot water feels painfully good after the chill of the rain. He kisses the back of her neck and says hopefully, "You don't have to go home just yet, do you?"

She doesn't.

~(W*A)~

Will finds himself wanting to know about Alana's brothers that played baseball and why she quit soccer and any other detail she has to offer.

So they swap pasts, mild anecdotes at first: riding with her brothers across the state line to buy fireworks on the Fourth of July, his father taking him on Lake Erie and the first time Will caught the most fish.

By midnight, they're lying in bed, listening to the rain on the roof and telling the real stories.

Will talks about the constant moving, the rotating schools, his loneliness. He tells her how his mother left, and he admits to his father's drinking and inattention.

She tells him about her brother Jamie dying, her father leaving, her mother's instability and consequential abuse. She talks about her other brothers leaving for college, the fact that she was alone in the house when her mother killed herself.

He's surprised, somehow, to hear how much she's been through. For so long he's seen Alana as everything he isn't: strong and unbroken. But he finds himself - impossibly - falling for her a little more as he discovers Alana is the type of person who has taken her damage and used it for strength.

~(W*A)~

They go for a walk the next day, through the same field where she once told him he wasn't broken. The air is cool and smells like fresh rain, sunlight glittering on the edge of clinging drops.

They talk about nothing for awhile, and then Will asks her tentatively about her classes, and Alana has to tell him that she took this semester off from Georgetown while she's been preparing for the trial.

"It's not a big deal. I still lecture at the Academy fairly often. And consult with cases." Her face darkens. "Not Jack's."

He goes quiet, then, hit fresh with the strength of his own gratitude, and how he will never be able to thank her enough for all she's done for him.

They move onto other topics soon, but something's changed between them, and they will not be able to keep everything unspoken for long.

~(W*A)~

They cook pasta that night, and Alana sits on the counter in shorts and a T-shirt, her hair in a loose braid hanging over her shoulder, sampling the sauce and teasing him about his cooking. It feels comfortable and easy and careless, and the life they were living three days ago feels briefly like another lifetime.

The dogs love her. Will notices that, the way Zoe rolls over on her back the second Alana gets anywhere near her, already knowing she can expect a belly rub, or the way Winston nudges his head against her hand, asking to be scratched behind the ears.

He can't help but smile when he sees her with them, but then they are developing so many weaknesses for each other.

That night he doesn't ask her to stay; they just assume she will.

~(W*A)~

At one a.m, Will's sitting up on the couch with Alana's head in his lap, absently stroking her hair while she looks up at him, and they finally talk about it.

The night slips away from them with whispered, overlapping confessions, and raw, unfiltered emotion.

_Don't know what I would have done without you_ -

_I was so scared it wouldn't be enough -_

_- some days you were the only thing keeping me sane -_

_- that I would fail you -_

_- knowing you didn't think I was a monster, that was everything -_

_- I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't come home -_

_I needed you._

_I needed you._

She sits up and folds herself against him, and for a long time they just hold on.

"Are you scared of me?" Will asks after awhile in a small voice.

"No." The answer is immediate, and then Alana sits up to meet his eyes when she says it again, "No."

She takes his hand, the hand she believes killed Abigail Hobbs, and lifts it to her lips, gently kissing each knuckle with such infinite tenderness it makes his throat swell.

Will doesn't understand how she can hold both beliefs in her head: that he is a murderer but not a monster. He knows the science of it, the explanation that swayed a jury, and yet it still feels impossible that her trust in him is that strong.

But Will needs her to believe both. Her faith in him, that steady, unwavering certainty, had kept him going for all those months.

But her trust in the evidence, the belief that, right mind or not, he killed those girls...that is what's saving Alana.

~(W*A)~

The next day Will catches her exploring his bookshelves, dragging her fingers across the spines as she reads the titles.

He follows behind Alana but lets her peruse on her own for awhile, never commenting, until she finds a lower shelf with rows of classic literature he'd read as a child.

A soft, bittersweet smile plays on her face as she imagines a young Will toting a book along with him to schools where he didn't know anyone, or waiting in the boat yard for his father to get off work and collect him.

"Peter Pan," she says, pulling the book off the shelf, meeting his eyes with a smile as they recall their conversation from a few nights ago.

"That was always my favorite book."

"It was my favorite movie."

Their eyes meet, each contemplating the appeal of a boy who never grew up to children who grew up too quickly.

Will breaks the moment with a teasing grin, tapping the book on the cover. "Want to read some of it now?"

She arches an eyebrow. "You mean out loud?"

"Yeah. I know it's not Flannery O'Connor...but I did enjoy listening to you read."

She bites back a grin and rolls her eyes, "You heard me read maybe two sentences, but sure."

Will thinks about that day in Abigail's hospital room, waking up from a nightmare to the sound of her voice instead of the usual silence. And he thinks about last night, when he'd startled awake at four a.m. inexplicably smelling prison, and the first thing he'd been aware of was Alana, curled against him, a blessed reassurance.

She makes him feel safe.

Will sits on one end of the couch and Alana settles against his chest and opens the book, her voice slow and lazy and warm, "All children, except one, grow up..."

~(W*A)~

More nosy exploration of his living room reveals Will has a collection of jazz albums, and Alana playfully insists they listen to as many as possible.

That night they split a bottle of wine and have sex on the couch like teenagers, feeling young and giddy and limitless.

They make it to the bedroom eventually and sleep late the next morning. Waking up with her head tucked in the crook of Will's shoulder counteracts the dull wine hangover, and Alana thinks she could get addicted to this, to sleepy conversations in the middle of the night and _good morning_'s whispered against her collarbone.

There are emails and missed calls piling up on her phone, but for the most part they can be ignored. They cannot go on like this forever, will eventually have to return to routine and weave each other into the everyday fabric of normal life, but for now Alana is happy in this bubble they've created.

After the past five months, they deserve a perfect little reality, if only for a little while.

~(W*A)~

"Hannibal tried to kiss me once."

Will's driving, Alana in the passenger seat. They're going nowhere in particular; he'd mused aloud at breakfast that he hasn't driven in months, and Alana had smiled and tossed him his keys.

Everything freezes when Alana's admission slips out. The slumbering monster in his chest stirs, huffing fire and rage, and Will's knuckles go tight on the wheel. He forces out a small, strangled, "Yeah?"

"It was the day I found out Jack was trying to get me disqualified as an expert witness. I was...upset. Hannibal just showed up with beer, wanting to check in, and...he tried."

Will doesn't trust himself to speak. White hot hate is pulsing in his veins as he wonders if that was before or after Hannibal came to see him jail, subtly hinting that if Will didn't make Alana back off looking into Hannibal's therapy sessions with Will, it would end incredibly badly for her.

"I stopped it," Alana tells him calmly. "I just...felt like I should tell you."

They have been so careful, neither of mentioning Hannibal, for their own reasons, and only now does Will realize how difficult this will be, how hard it is to know she has been alone with him, that she has no idea what he is.

Ever since that day Hannibal came to Will, his greatest fear had ceased to be a guilty verdict, a life sentence, even a lethal injection, and became about Hannibal killing Alana.

And so he'd stopped mentioning his "theories" about Hannibal, never trying to convince her as he did Jack. And when Alana had begun preparing her testimony, Will left out details and told half-truths, subtly steering her away from her frustration with Hannibal's therapy, her questioning why Hannibal hadn't seen what was happening.

All the while Alana was fighting for him, Will had been defending her, too, just as hard; it had just been a quieter fight.

Something is brewing in his chest, all sharp edges and ice cold dread, as Will realizes the fight may not be quiet much longer. He does not know Hannibal's next move, but there will be one, and Will has to be ready.

It has been less than a week, and already he has so much more to lose.

Alana's head is tilted against the seat of the car, watching him carefully and when he's quiet for too long she frowns a little, worried.

Will glances over at her, smoothing out his expression, forcing the anger that isn't directed at her out of his voice and asking quietly, "Why'd you stop it?"

Relieved, she replies, "You know why."

"Tell me anyway."

"He's not who I wanted."

Maybe it's dangerous, keeping her so close, putting her in the line of fire. She is Will's strongest ally and yet his greatest weakness, and Hannibal is well aware of that.

Will lingers at a red light and his eyes find Alana's, and he promises himself something: that he will keep her safe, no matter what the cost.

Some day, maybe even soon, that might mean pushing her away, deliberately hurting her, breaking her heart, even, and he will do it if that would keep Hannibal away from her.

But not today. Today, Will reaches over and takes Alana's hand in his, squeezing gently and giving her a small, grateful smile. Today, they drive for two more hours, jazz playing softly on the car CD player, going nowhere and not caring, before he glances over at her and says in a would be casual voice, "Do you think we should go on a real date?"

Today, they get to keep living in the perfect contained world they are building together, if only for a little while longer.


	2. Chapter 2

It's been nearly two weeks since Alana and Will were more than a room or two apart, so calling anything a "first date" is really just a formality. There's no reason they should be nervous.

So they joke about how the importance of the date to cover up how important it really is to them. Will teases about making it perfect to disguise how desperate he is to do so.

One morning when Alana's in the shower, Will goes out on the porch and calls Beverly. She feigns shock.

"What's the deal, man? You get out of prison and immediately are too good to check in?"

"Sorry," he mumbles sheepishly. "You could have come by."

There's a smirk in her voice. "_Weirdly_, Alana's been completely out of touch, too. Thought the two might be connected."

Suddenly he's blushing like a teenager, a smile spreading across his face. "Yeah, she's, um. She's been here."

"The whole time?!"

"Um. Yes."

Beverly lets out a whoop that forces Will to pull the phone away from his ear. "_Wow_. You guys got right to it, huh?" Her voice softens. "I'm happy for you. Really."

"Thanks." He hesitates, awkward. "So...I was hoping you could maybe help me with something."

"Sure, anything."

"We're going out this weekend. On a real date, finally. Do you, um. Know somewhere good I can take her?" There's a silence. Nervously, Will asks, "Beverly?"

"Sorry, just..." She laughs. "This is so goddamned cute it's taking me awhile to process." Her tone becoming businesslike, she asks, "So what are you thinking? You want something creative or classy?"

"I want to do it right. Really good restaurant, someplace, you know...romantic?" The word sounds like a question.

"So goddamned cute," Beverly mutters. "Okay. I've got you. You mind driving into DC?"

"I'll go anywhere."

"Great. There's a place there. Fancy, great food...and the rooftop's a bar, with dancing. Very cool. I took Ellie on her last birthday, she loved it. You'll need a reservation."

~(W*A)~

The day of the date, Friday, Alana goes home for the first time in almost two weeks.

She feels like a giddy teenager, whole body humming with excitement. It makes her want to tell someone all about it. Oddly, her first instinct is Will - he is both the source of her excitement and the person she wants to talk to about it.

But obviously that's ridiculous, so she settles for calling Beverly.

"Wow. Look at who finally found a phone."

"I've been busy." Alana pauses, then finally just says outright, "I've been at Will's."

"I'm shocked."

"Shut up." She feels maybe sixteen years old. Possibly younger. "We're going out tonight. First date, kind of thing."

"You don't say?" Beverly sounds infinitely amused by this news.

"I'm going back to my place for the first time since he got out. Will keeps joking - but not really joking - about getting all the first date stuff right, so he wants to come pick me up." Alana is talking just to say the words, as if to make it more real.

"You guys are going to be unbearable. I can already tell." Beverly deadpans. "Do you want me to come over? Do the whole sorority house thing, judge your outfit?"

"No, that's okay. I just..." Alana laughs a little, self consciously. "I just wanted to tell someone, I think."

Teasing note gone from Beverly's voice, she says, "So this is good, right?"

"This is...really, really good. Crazy good. It...feels sort of impossible."

There's a pause, and then Beverly says, tone full of sincerity, "You made it possible, you know that, right? You saved him."

"His lawyer - "

"Based his whole case around your testimony," Beverly insists firmly. "It's possible. You made sure it was. So you two better have a damn good time of this date, okay? You both deserve it."

~(W*A)~

Will is ready an hour early, so he sits in living room in his suit, staring at the clock like a little kid on Christmas morning until it's time to go pick Alana up.

Panic sets in about half a second after he rings the doorbell. Standing on her porch with a rose in his hand, he feels like a fraud. Like he's just play acting at normal, stable, and functioning.

But then she opens the door and Will forgets to doubt himself. He forgets everything that isn't Alana, her black dress and red lipstick and her hair in loose waves around her shoulders. She smiles. "Hey, you. Long time no see."

"You're beautiful," Will tells her softly when he recovers enough to pull the words from his throat. He hands her the rose, and her smile melts.

"_You're_ amazing," she tells him, tugging him closer by his tie, her fingers skimming the silky fabric.

"Want to know something stupid?"

Alana grins, lifting her eyes to his. "Always."

Will gives a sheepish sort of smile. "I missed you."

Her smile widens. "I missed you, too."

Laughing a little, Will lifts an eyebrow, "That's probably a bad sign, right?"

"Oh, yeah. I'd say we're definitely in trouble here."

~(W*A)~

The car ride is good for their nerves. It's become familiar, in the past two weeks, the two of them riding together, voices mingling over the quiet of the radio, and they pass the hour drive into DC easily.

He holds her hand when they cross the street, and Alana's eyes go wide when she sees the name of the restaurant. "Oh, wow, I've heard of this place. Beverly was raving about it after..." She stops talking abruptly, giving Will a teasingly suspicious look.

He gives her a crooked smile and admits, "She recommended it. I, uh. Don't eat out much."

There's something so endearing about this, him asking Beverly for date advice, that Alana has to resist the urge to hug him in the middle of the street. As it is, she slips an arm around his waist and leans into him as they walk. They can't stop smiling.

Will had worried about traffic, so they're there half an hour early for their reservation. Will turns to her on the brink of apology, but Alana just tucks a hand into the crook of his elbow and starts toward the bar. "Good, we can have drinks before."

So they sit at the bar and laugh about Beverly making fun of them, when suddenly Alana hears a familiar voice call out, "Al?"

She turns, startled, to see her brother Aaron moving toward her, a blonde woman she doesn't know following him. Without really knowing why, Alana instinctively tenses, though she smiles on autopilot. "Aaron, hey."

"Crazy seeing you here, it's been forever," he says as he hugs her. Pulling back, he turns to the woman beside him. "My sister. Al, this is Jenna. She teaches biology at the school."

"Nice to meet you," Alana says, shaking Jenna's hand.

"You, too, your brother talks about you all the time."

Alana glances at Will and rests a hand on his thigh before turning back to Aaron, eyes locked on her brother's face as she says, "This is Will."

She sees Aaron react to this, his slight double take, the darkening of his eyes, but after only a second he manages a friendly smile and cordially shakes Will's hand. "Good to meet you. I'm Aaron."

"Hi." She can tell just from Will's voice that he picked up on Aaron's reaction, as well; she turns to smile at him, reassuring.

"So how long's your wait?" Aaron asks wryly. "They're telling us an hour and a half."

"Shouldn't be too much longer," Alana says pointedly. "We have a reservation in about fifteen minutes."

"Great! Could we join your table? I'm starving."

Alana narrows her eyes, but before she can protest, Jenna throws Aaron an embarrassed look. "_Aaron_, they don't want us intruding on their date." She gives Alana an apologetic look, rolling her eyes fondly at his seeming cluelessness.

"Oh, it's not a date," Aaron counters casually, eyes meeting Alana's. "They're just old friends."

There's no question in his tone, as if he's stating an ironclad fact, but Alana's eyes flash and she counters firmly, "Actually, it is a date." She looks at Will, his eyes focused on a point over Aaron's shoulder, face set in discomfort, and her chest tightens, anger coiling in her gut. Flicking her eyes back to her brother, Alana adds coolly, "And you're being kind of rude."

"Sorry, my mistake," Aaron sounds polite enough on the surface, but the thread of accusation in his words is unmistakable now. "I just figured there was no possible way you were on a _date_ with this guy."

Alana stands up out of instinct, physically inserting herself between Will and her brother. "_Watch_ _it_, Aaron," she warns, voice dangerously quiet.

"And _this_ _guy_ is sitting right here," Will points out flatly.

At the sound of Will's voice, Aaron seems to remember himself, and he glances over Alana's shoulder at the other man, expression offering the barest hint of apology. "Look, man. I'm not trying to be an asshole, but..._come on_." He looks back at Alana. "You're smarter than this."

A muscle jumping in Alana's jaw, she practically grow;s at her brother, "You might want to _stop_-"

"Aaron..." Jenna places a nervous hand on his shoulder. "C'mon, let's leave them alone."

"Jen, he's _murdered_ people."

"He what?!"

"_Aaron_!"

Aaron meets Alana's eyes, which are lit with rage, his expression defiant. "I know about the brain scans, Al, remember? You told me every damn step of this trial, so I get it. But if there's even the slightest chance it happens again, who do you think he'll go after? You really want to take that risk?" Alana's stony expression doesn't change, so Aaron's eyes move to meet Will's. "Do _you_?"

For a moment, Alana's so angry she can't see straight. She can feel her grip on her temper slipping, and she's a breath away from laying into Aaron when Will speaks.

"You're, um." His voice, small and strained, gets everyone's attention. "You're probably right, actually." Will's eyes meet Alana's, something almost like an apology there. "Sorry, I, uh. I need some air."

"Will..." Alana reaches for him as he pushes through the group and heads to the exit. "Goddamn it, Aaron..." She starts after Will, but after a few steps turns back around, glaring at her brother, voice tight and heated. "We both know I don't need you to look out for me. I know it makes you feel better, so most the time I let you do it. But not like this, Aaron. He's hurt more than enough, you _don't_ get to hurt him more."

~(W*A)~

Will stands outside the restaurant, pacing, his hands clutching angrily at his scalp.

He's thinking about what Aaron said. While everything Alana's brother believes is wrong, he is more right about the risk than even Alana could possibly realize.

Will's being selfish. The closer she is to him, the more of a target she'll be for Hannibal. Hurting Alana would be the surest way to unravel Will; it would also rob him of his strongest ally.

And Aaron's worries have made him think of something else; there are people who still think Will is capable of murder. Even Jack was never entirely convinced the encephalitis was anything but a convenient coincidence.

If Hannibal frames Will for another murder, there will be no brain scans to save him now. No illness to justify his actions. Alana hasn't left his house in two weeks; she'd be an obvious victim, as well as a useful defense witness to eliminate.

His stomach rolls, and for a moment Will's afraid he's going to be sick.

Then he hears her voice.

"Will..."

Will turns around; the anger is gone from Alana's face, and she looks so, so sorry. "He's wrong. He has no idea what he's talking about."

Glancing at her, Will forces a smile. "I can understand his point. Why he wouldn't want you with someone like - "

"_No_," Alana cuts him off firmly. "No, he doesn't know the first thing about you." She sighs, closing the space between them, wrapping her hands around the nape of his neck. "I've told you how he is, Will, why he tries too hard to be protective. This is about him, not you."

Will shakes his head. "Alana, if anything ever happened to you - "

She lifts herself up and kisses, effectively shutting down that protest. Will gives in immediately, and for a long moment all the unpleasant thoughts fly out of his head.

Alana pulls away gently, cupping his cheek in one hand and saying, "I know who you are. And you don't scare me."

Will makes himself smile, but it is harder than ever to meet her eyes. She sounds so sincere, and already Will is thinking that he has to let her go.

"Want to go back in?"

Will hesitates, unsure. This first date was a mistake, a false start, a memory he will soon have to tarnish. He should save something...on the slim chance that, some day, when he's exposed Hannibal...he will get yet another chance with her.

Alana reads his hesitation, though she misses the motivation. "Kinda ruined now, huh?" She plays with his tie between her fingers and gives him a gentle, understanding smile. "It's okay. Let's go somewhere else."

"You don't mind?"

"Not at all." She pulls out her phone, giving it a wry look as the screen registers her fifth missed call from her brother. "Can you give me just a minute? I have something I need to say to Aaron."

"Sure." Impulsively, Will brushes his lips against the curve of her cheek. "I'll wait here."

~(W*A)~

Aaron and Jenna have snagged a tall table in the bar. As Alana approaches, her phone buzzes once again; Aaron's got his phone to his ear, expression desperate, and it takes him a moment to notice her and hang up.

For a moment the Bloom siblings stare at each other, Alana unforgiving, Aaron chagrined. Jenna glances back and forth between them, awkward, before murmuring, "I'm going to run to the bathroom."

She goes, and Alana sits down across from Aaron. "You can have our reservation," she states coldly. "We're leaving."

Voice conciliatory, Aaron tries, "Look, Al, I seriously wasn't trying to - "

She doesn't let him finish the thought. "To what, Aaron? To _shame_ and humiliate someone you don't even know?" Aaron has the grace to look embarrassed, and Alana exhales slowly, trying to calm herself down as she says, "I don't get you, Aaron. You've been the one listening to me constantly talk about all this shit for the past five months. You probably know every detail of the case, and _you_ are the one who told me I could do it, that I would be able to save him. You know how much this means to me, and suddenly you're acting like an asshole about it."

Aaron sighs, frustrated. "It's just...it's so fast, Alana. He's been out of prison for, what? Two weeks?"

"I've been at his house since the trial," Alana informs her brother, provoking a slight grimace. After a moment, she adds quietly, "And I can't remember the last time I was this happy."

Aaron's face softens. "It's not that I don't want that for you, Al. You know that. I just worry."

"I've walked away from Will before," Alana reminds him calmly. "I'm not incapable of that. But he's healthy. He's done with FBI work, and encephalitis has an incredibly low recurrence rate. Even if it did come back, we know what to look for now."

"But you know what he's capable of. And if there's even a _chance_ - "

"There's not." The tone of her voice makes it clear the discussion is over. This is something Alana knows. "He won't hurt me." She has spent so much time recently breaking Will into logic: neurological facts and brain scans and psychology. There are so many rational facts to support this statement, but the truth is it's not about logic. It's a deep, instinctive _knowing_, etched into her bones, woven into the very fabric of the universe's laws.

Aaron exhales heavily, and finally says, tone heavy with resignation, "Just be careful."

She doesn't even respond to that, instead telling him flatly, "Eventually you're gonna have to make up for your horrible first impression. With Will."

Eyebrows lifting, Aaron asks, "Oh, really? Already thinking in the _eventuallys_?"

Alana's eyes widen slightly, like the truth of that is just now occurring to her. "Yeah," she says finally. "Yeah, I guess I am."

~(W*A)~

She goes to the bathroom, with promises to Aaron to send Jenna back out, and after fighting with himself for a moment, Aaron vacates the bar table and heads outside the restaurant.

"Hey, Will?"

The other man turns around, startled and immediately wary. Aaron extends his hand, an offering. "I'm sorry. I really didn't mean to ruin your night. Just surprised me, that's all."

Will visibly hesitates before shaking Aaron's hand. He nods once, jerkily, but other than that doesn't respond to the apology. "Where's Alana?"

"She went to the bathroom. She doesn't know I'm talking to you." He laughs a little. "I'm probably not supposed to."

In spite of himself, Will smiles a little. In that moment, Aaron Bloom reminds him of Jack Crawford, unhappy with a dressing down from Alana but unable to deny that he deserves it. There's such a power to her.

"Al always says I'm overprotective," Aaron continues in a low voice. "But the truth is she's always had to take care of herself." Will doesn't miss the guilt in Aaron's voice. "So I guess I have to...keep trusting her to do that."

Will's quiet for a moment, thinking again of Hannibal. He lifts his head, looking at Aaron, expression somber. "I won't let anything happen to her," he says quietly. "Even if it means me walking away."

Aaron squints, gauging him. Finally, he nods. "I believe you."

~(W*A)~

Alana steps out of the restaurant to see Aaron standing with Will, their backs to her. Her mouth flies open in instinctive protest, but then she catches the calm tone of her brother's voice as he responds to something Will said.

"I believe you."

"I'd never forgive myself is Alana got hurt," Will says. "I love her."

Alana's heart catches, and she inhales sharply. Aaron and Will turn at the same time, noticing her, and Will's eyes go huge. She gives him a soft smile, letting the moment hover before glancing back and forth between Aaron and Will. "Everything good here?"

Aaron claps a friendly hand on Will's back. "We're good."

Jerking her head pointedly toward the restaurant, Alana says, "Jenna's waiting for you."

Nodding, Aaron gives his sister an awkward smile. "Goodnight. I'll call you, Al."

~(W*A)~

The second Aaron's out of sight, Alana reaches for Will, fingers closing around the tie and tugging him close, her lips soft and inviting against his.

When she finally pulls back, she's smiling at him, eyes shining. "I love you, too, you know."

The words slice straight through to Will's chest. His hands are threaded through her hair, and his forehead drops against hers. For a second, Will sways unsteadily, overwhelmed.

He can't do it. Not tonight. This moment, hearing Alana say those words after all this time...it's not something he can give up. He can't bring himself to ruin this. Not right away, at least.

"I love you." Will's voice is shaking, and he laughs once, nervously. "I know you, uh. You heard. But I just. Wanted to say it to _you_."

Eyes bright, Alana smiles and kisses him, tender but quick, then winds her arms around his neck and tucks her chin over his shoulder, her fingers weaving absently through his curls.

After awhile, she whispers into his ear, "I think we managed to salvage this date, huh?"

"Yeah..." Will pulls back slowly, tucking an errant strand of Alana's hair behind her ear. "We could still go back inside."

"No, that's okay." She grins at him. "I've got another idea."

~(W*A)~

They sit on the hood of the car in the parking lot of a pizza place. Alana's heels are kicked off on the ground beside them, and she's wearing Will's jacket as they eat slices of cheese pizza.

Will's unusually quiet, and several times Alana debates bringing up Aaron's comments again, making sure he's not still worrying.

But before she can decide if that would help or hurt, Will reaches into his pocket and draws out a small box. He gives a small, shy smile and holds it out to her. "I got you something."

"Will..." She tilts her head at him. "You didn't have to do that."

"I know, I just...I wanted to thank you. For everything."

Alana smiles, then slowly opens the box to find a thin gold bracelet with a small seashell charm dangling from it.

For a long moment, she just stares down at the gift. Unable to see her face, Will nervously fills the silence, "You wear that starfish necklace all the time. So I just thought...something else that would, uh, sort of go along with it."

Alana's not sure exactly why the bracelet has her teetering precariously close to tears. She traces a finger across the gold, ending on the charm, and thinks about what Aaron said earlier, about how she's already thinking of things in terms of the _eventuallys_. It's snuck up on her, how quickly this thing between them has started to feel permanent.

It's happening so fast. But then they've been waiting for so long.

~(W*A)~

Finally, Alana looks up, her smile dizzying. "It's beautiful. Thank you."

Will grins, relieved. Almost immediately, though, the smile falters, and his eyes flick away as he remembers why he shouldn't be doing this. That he is only making it worse.

Frowning, Alana asks, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Will murmurs, but he's not looking anywhere near her when he says it. "Here..." He takes the bracelet in one hand and Alana's wrist in the other, gently fastening the jewelry and wondering if there is any way he can possibly keep her.


End file.
